The Healer
by type-writes
Summary: Bellamione AU. Hermione is a renowned Healer, and it just so happens that her next patient is the world's favourite dark witch.
1. Chapter 1

_AUTHOR'S NOTE_

_Hello, readers. _

_This fanfiction has been long-awaited. _

_It's been about 6 months, I think, since bellamione-trash uploaded Healer AU fan art and together we started making a child. That's exactly what this fanfiction is, mine and Trashy's child. With her art and my mediocre writing, we've managed to pop out this. _

_It is fast moving and description isn't my strong point, but it's what the fans wanted (I hope)._

_I'm not going to pin time frames on part two, because we all know I suck, but if Trashy makes more art then I'll make more fic… because I need inspirATION, GODDAMMIT! _

_I'm hoping to make this fic about 30k words long, split into three parts. It was never meant to be long, and originally was going to be a 10k word one shot, but it has evolved. _

_Anyway, I won't ramble much longer. Here it is. Enjoy it, and please let me know what you think in the comments. _

_Thank you for your patience and happy reading!_

_-types_

_THE HEALER: PART ONE_

_"A healer's power stems not from any special ability,_

_but from maintaining the courage and awareness_

_to embody and express the universal healing power_

_that every human being naturally possesses."_

Hermione hunched over her desk, nothing but the lamp she had on next to her to illuminate the journal she had open.

She'd never come across anything quite like what she'd come across today.

After a mere two years of experience – having been through a war, being a renowned successful healer and everyone's preference for advanced procedures – Hermione thought she'd seen it all. However, nothing prepared her for the insanity she had been met with in Bellatrix Lestrange's eyes.

She put her elbows on the table and her head in her hands, supporting herself out of fatigue.

Insanity, but also… vulnerability.

The brunette slammed the journal shut when she concluded that nothing in it would be of any help, moving over to her Pensieve which was positioned in a cabinet in a corner in her study.

She used her wand to light the area as she opened the cabinet and the Pensieve slowly drifted forwards so that it was accessible.

Its surface glowed, rippling in her presence, and she pressed the tip of her wand to her temple. Removing the memory from her head, she immediately placed it in the Pensieve.

Hermione cast a dark shadow over her Pensieve as she lowered her face into it.

_"Miss Granger, lovely to meet you, welcome to St. Mungo's. I presume you've been here before?" the tall lanky man at the front desk, obviously a new addition over the past year, gave a small bow out of pure manners before he handed Hermione a folder. _

_"Once or twice. Who is my patient?" the Gryffindor cut to the chase immediately; she loathed mixing small talk and business. _

_He pointed to the folder. "All the information is in there."_

_She was wearing her deep ivy green healer robes, not at all like the lighter green ones the man before her was wearing. He was obviously someone very low down in the hierarchy, from the way he talked to her, the way he stood, the fact that he didn't bother introducing himself; he was someone who admired her. _

_Then again, who didn't these days? Hermione Granger, the famous healer. The girl never thought her life might end up like this. _

_"Follow me," he gestured towards the hallway which lead to the Prisoners of War, particularly the dangerous ones, as Hermione followed on behind. _

_Her black leather boots tapped on the floors as they went, her white shirt tucked into dark trousers. There was a tie around her neck, black and red to honour her original Hogwarts House, her robe billowing out behind her as she flicked through the folder and glanced at her new patient's file. _

_"Excuse me?" she said, halting her tour guide by placing a hand lightly on his arm. _

_He looked to her worriedly, as if he might have done something wrong personally. "Yes, Miss Granger?" _

_"I was told I would be seeing a male patient," Hermione began, holding up the folder's first page for him to see. "_This_ is a female patient."_

_The name across the top of the page read, 'Lestrange (née Black), Bellatrix.'_

_"Madame Lestrange has always been down as your patient, from the moment you agreed to join us," the man seemed flustered as he hurried on to ask, "Who told you you were having a male patient?" _

_"The Chief Healer," Hermione referred to her old friend with narrowed eyes. _

_"I advise you talk to her then, since I can't really be of much help. Will you still treat Madame Lestrange?" _

_Hermione gritted her teeth, slowly nodding. She'd come far in her career considering she had barely crested twenty years of age and was reluctant to back down now because of such a low-life, evil woman. _

_"Of course, I will," she almost sounded indignant as she spoke, "who do you think I am?" _

_The man nodded his head once. "Of course, my apologies. Right this way." _

_Walking through the corridor, lined with doors to cells holding Prisoners of War, Hermione felt a familiar cold settle over her. She had been asked upon applying for the Arch's School of Healing during her third Hogwarts year if she would have a problem with treating criminals. She had said that she may never be comfortable with it, but that everyone deserved medical care when it came down to it. _

_Now, however, as she came face to face with the guard positioned outside Bellatrix's door, she was thinking of reevaluating. _

_The guard opened the door for them, turning to face the entrance as he allowed room for them to enter. _

_"Thank you," Hermione gave him a nod. _

_The tall woman nodded back, her blonde hair swept up into a neat bun, dark robes making her almost blend with the steel grey of the door. _

_Hermione and her tour guide entered a room, the walls made of stone, two more guards stood in each of the far corners. Then, in the middle of the back wall slumped in heavy shackles was the defeated form of Bellatrix Lestrange. _

_Her hair had fallen over her fallen face, her arms spread either side of her by the shackles, and her robes were dirty and ripped. She rolled her head up painfully to glance at her visitor, barely having the energy to crack a smirk before she dropped her head again, unable to hold her own weight. _

_Hermione gasped at the sight before her. Never had she expected to see Bellatrix so vulnerable. The desperation in the older woman's eyes was almost scarier than the usual crazed look they reflected. _

_Without a second thought, Hermione drew her wand and waved it at the shackles. With a screech, they each fell away from the wall and Hermione was there to catch Bellatrix as her fragile form collapsed to the floor. _

_"You kept her locked up here like an animal? Look at her, she's barely breathing!" she yelled at her tour guide. _

_The raven-haired woman in Hermione's arms coughed as she tried to lift herself up, only to fail and fall back in her lap. Blood oozed from where the shackles had cut into her wrists and neck, and her face was coloured with bruises and cuts. _

_"Miss Granger," her guide said shakily, "it is against the orders of the Ministry to release Madame Lestrange from her shackles." _

_"I don't care!" Hermione hissed up at him, still cradling Bellatrix. "I have a duty to my patients, to treat them like human beings, to heal them, and _this_ won't do. If you do not like the way I work, then find someone else!" _

_The tall lanky man's eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head. "No one else will take her, Miss." _

_Hermione looked down at Bellatrix again and for a moment, their eyes met and Hermione came face-to-face with the all too familiar deranged look that glistened in the Slytherin's eyes. _

_She looked up to her guide, jaw set. "Then you better hand me my equipment so that I can diagnose her." _

Hermione lifted her head from the Pensieve, reality hitting her like a slap in the face, but she found the warm familiarity of her office comforting after putting herself back in such an environment.

Peace, however, wouldn't last for long. The Gryffindor placed the memory in a vial, labelling it, before she pulled another memory from her temple and placed it in the Pensieve.

She watched it for a moment. Going over her trickier patients was good practice and she had managed to purchase a Pensieve after the Ministry had rewarded her, Harry and Ron so heavily for their involvement in the War.

Having moved to a different school, Hermione had been far away from her two friends, but that hadn't stopped her from aiding them in their search for Horcruxes anymore than it had stopped her from treating injured members of the Order and other friendlies.

The memory in the bowl before her ended her train of thought abruptly and, with a shaky breath, Hermione lowered her head back into the Pensieve.

_"Why did you let me go?" _

_It was the first time Bellatrix had said a word to her. Hermione had calmly explained upon sitting the dark witch on a stool that if she tried anything then she would refuse to treat her, therefore leaving her to die in the hands of the "inept members of staff at St Mungo's"— which unsurprisingly evoked a snort of laughter. Hermione found that Bellatrix co-operated, although whether that was because she wanted to or because she was just too weak to do anything else, the Gryffindor couldn't be sure. _

_She talked Bellatrix through every examination she did, starting with the cuts on her wrists from the shackles, then with the one around her neck. After Hermione had announced that they should all heal just fine with the correct spell, which she would perform in a moment, Bellatrix had spoken._

_"Because you were dying, despite the fact that you are already supposed to be dead. Mind telling me about that?" Hermione raised an eyebrow, looking at the bruises and dried blood on Bella's face. "I'm just going to make sure nothing's broken. Hold still."_

_Bellatrix didn't even wince as Hermione prodded at her bruises, but she continued to speak, her voice clear and even. "That's not any of your business." _

_"Actually," Hermione squinted at a particular bruise, muttering something to herself about a healing potion, before continuing, "it is. If you have in some way come back from the dead or recovered from being fatally injured then I need to know, since every encounter you've had in the past that could have put you under any emotional or physical duress could be a deeper cause for your frankly appalling physical and mental state."_

_Bellatrix laughed, eyes travelling to the side where the shackles used to hang. "I was only subjected to a fourteen year sentence in Azkaban, I don't know what could possibly have driven me over the edge… _Healer_." _

_She added the last part mockingly, her eyes flickering back to meet Hermione's lazily as she spoke. _

_"Obviously, but it's no secret that you were mad before being locked in the madhouse, so I'm going to say you're an abuse victim," Hermione turned to her bag and tapped it with her wand. It grew into a cabinet which contained all sorts of potions and Hermione picked one from a green and red vial. "You show the classic signs, you know."_

_"Oh, do I?"_

_"The insecurity that's masked with confidence, the superiority act—"_

_"That's not an act."_

_"I think you're scared," Hermione said._

_"I think you're wrong," Bellatrix sassed._

_"Am I?" Hermione paused, turning to look at the Slytherin as she held the vial in her hands. _

_There was no reply, Bella's eyes only dropped to the potion suspiciously. "What's that?"_

_"This," Hermione held it out to her patient, "is a healing potion. It'll help with the pain, help speed up the process of healing for those bruises. You should feel a lot better in a few hours after taking that. Now, how does the rest of your body feel?" _

_"My right leg hurts, my back aches, but that's just normal after six adult males twice the size of you beat you within an inch of your life," Bellatrix shot one of the guards a shitty look. _

_Hermione turned to him and, obviously seeing the rage in her eyes, he hurried to explain. "She put twelve of our men in the hospital before we could pin her down, Miss." _

_Hermione's eyes went back to Bellatrix and her eyebrows raised. _

_Bellatrix didn't say a word, she just took the potion from Hermione's hands and drank it. It tasted foul, but her face remained blank as she swallowed the liquid and held the bottle back out for Hermione to take. _

_The brunette took the bottle, placing it on the table next to them and turning back to the witch before her. "You seem to be moving okay, so I don't think your legs or back is broken, but I'll keep an eye on it. I'm ordering they bring you a bed and regular meals. Try not to get into too much trouble while I'm gone. As I said, if you harm anyone, I'll refuse to treat you and then you'll die here. It's your choice."_

_"I'm not stupid," Bellatrix muttered._

_"Perhaps not," the Gryffindor taunted. _

_The dark witch raised an eyebrow, pursing her lips. _

Hermione lifted her head from the Pensieve for the second time that night, sighing.

She didn't anticipate treating Bellatrix's physical wounds taking more than a couple of weeks, but it really depended on how the witch had managed to piece herself back together after Molly Weasley had obliterated her.

She also had a duty to tend to any patient's mental health if their injuries were a result of the war. She didn't quite know what category Bellatrix's injuries fell into, but she felt obliged to at least try to stabilise her.

Hermione wasn't sure what would become of Bellatrix after her treatment. They would likely interrogate her. Hermione believed it to be pointless, treating Prisoners of War only to torture them afterwards. Although, she had stabilised prisoners before to an extent that they were set free after a trial… but did Bellatrix deserve that second chance?

Now, three days after their first meeting, Hermione had managed to stabilise Bellatrix enough to go home. She thought everything would be perfectly fine, but the following morning, she came to realise that her faith had been misplaced.

Bellatrix was lying in a pool of her own blood when Hermione walked into her cell, the guards just standing at the sides engaging in normal conversation with each other as if their prisoner wasn't bleeding to death.

Hermione all but hissed at them and they glanced at her worriedly as the brunette dropped to her knees by Bella's body on the floor.

"I left for one night! What happened?" she demanded as she started using healing spells to reverse the effects of whatever wound Bellatrix had.

"She attacked us!"

"Yeah, tried to hit us! It was self defence!"

"Lies," Bellatrix croaked as she started to regain consciousness.

The guards looked to each other, then disregarded Bellatrix with a hand wave and a laugh.

Hermione ignored them and, once she'd managed to stabilise Bellatrix enough that she could open her eyes, came to realise that the dark witch had managed to sever her popliteal artery. Only, such a cut could only have been made by a knife sharp enough to get that deep and it wasn't in much of an accessible position.

Suddenly, the guards' story seemed very unlikely. If this had been self defence, the likelihood of the wound being below the waist was minimal. The guards were trained in duelling, not hand to hand combat. They wouldn't have known what to do without having some time to think about their move, which they wouldn't have had a chance to do if Bellatrix had really gone for them.

The Slytherin winced as Hermione hauled her onto her bed and turned her onto her side so she could get a better look at the wound. She cast a spell which would temporarily stop the bleeding and took a look.

Cautiously, she poked at it, only for Bellatrix to cry out.

"Merlin, mudblood! Don't you think you could give me something for the pain first?!"

"If you truly attacked them," Hermione didn't look up at the dark witch's face as she spoke and continued to poke at the wound to determine the best course of action, trying to ignore the blood purist's slur, "then you deserve it."

"They were taunting me, calling me names, trying to get a rise out of me," Bellatrix spat through gritted teeth as she began to shake, the pain making her vision cloud at the edges, "and all I did was shout back once. I did tell you I wasn't stupid. _They_ came after _me. _They held me down…"

Hermione went to her case and rummaged around for a potion, and she used a pipet to extract a few drops from the bottle. The liquid was brown and thick and it smelt absolutely disgusting, but Hermione just leaned over Bellatrix and tilted her chin up.

"Lift up your tongue."

Bellatrix did as she was told and Hermione dropped three drops under the woman's tongue.

Immediately, Bellatrix began to relax and her eyelids drooped.

"Leave now," the brunette ordered the guards before she began to stitch up the wound, hoping it wouldn't get infected. "What did they say to you?" she asked after they'd left.

"Does it matter?" Bellatrix was clearly trying to sound intimidating but the effect of the potion was weighing heavily on her usual facade.

"Of course it does, Bellatrix," Hermione said nicely, threading a needle through her patient's flesh and carefully pulling the open wound together again, "because whatever they said obviously hurt you, and I'm here to make you better."

There was a quiet pause, but Hermione could practically hear Bellatrix overthinking, debating whether or not to open up.

"They called me Voldemort's whore, a batshit bitch, among other things… and I called them filthy traitors and then they both stunned me before holding me down and cutting the back of my knee. They told me I wouldn't be able to run back to the Dark Lord like that, then reminded me that he was dead anyway. So childish…" Bella explained carefully, but then her teeth gritted again, "and for them to insult my Lord!"

"Bellatrix, calm down," Hermione demanded. She had to admit, the whole ordeal was incredibly childish, and out of order. The guards shouldn't have said a word to Bellatrix. Prisoners of War were often fragile of mind and it was good practice not to send them on a spiral if they wanted the answers they wanted out of them.

The older woman relaxed, but clenched her jaw as she glanced back at the door.

The silence that followed was a lot like the silences between the two witches usually were: awkward and tense. There was a little Hermione could do to ease it, so she'd stopped trying, instead just attempting to engage her patient in what was definitely unwanted conversation.

"Tell me something about you," she said and, unsurprisingly, Bellatrix scoffed in reply. Hermione continued to probe.

"No, really," she glanced up at Bellatrix's face as she continued the stitch, "tell me something no one knows about you."

Bellatrix looked almost humorous when she replied. "Are you completely thick? There are reasons no one knows certain things about me."

"Nothing like that, I'm not a war spy, I'm a healer. All the information you disclose to me stays between us unless I believe you or another person may be in immediate danger."

Bellatrix watched Hermione carefully as the brunette concentrated on her current operation. She chewed on the inside of her lip, the dark witch noticed, when she was concentrating particularly hard. However, no amount of concentration could ever make Bellatrix consider actually opening up to her healer.

"Are you ready to tell me about your near-death experience yet?" the brunette asked as she began to finish off the stitches.

"Which one?" Bella chuckled.

"I'm being serious, Lestrange," the healer said harshly, but only received a sigh in return, followed by silence.

Bellatrix watched as Hermione closed the stitch and waved her wand over it as a final measure, securing it, and she tilted her head to one side as she looked at the Gryffindor, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.

"What?" the young witch blinked.

"Just you, you and your… eagerness. It's amusing to watch anyone's attempts when they're in the vain, but yours are especially entertaining. It's fun. Come on, mudblood, psychoanalyse me. Make my day," Bella chuckled.

Hermione didn't rise to it, she just looked Bellatrix in the eyes and spoke levelly. "I'm only asking these questions to better understand your condition, and therefore be better able to treat you. Whatever information you withhold could be course-altering when it comes to your treatment, but if you're willing to be that offhanded with your second chance after fighting so hard for it, by all means, don't let me stop you."

Bellatrix's jaw tensed again, and Hermione braced herself for the Slytherin's snappy reply, but all she heard was a soft laugh and and quiet, "You play smart."

"I'm not playing, Bellatrix," Hermione sighed, packing up her equipment with a flick of her wand. "This is my job, the world isn't just one big soft-play centre."

"A what?"

"A soft-play centre, it's a muggle playground made for children, and all the furnishings are soft to prevent major injury."

"Pfft! Well, that's pathetic. That might even have one up on your efforts, mudblood."

"Healer," Hermione corrected.

"_Mudblood_."

The disrespect bothered Hermione, but she wasn't sure what she expected.

Walking from the room without another word, Hermione positioned the guards back inside with clear orders to only stun the dark witch should she become a problem. She also informed them that she would mention it to the Chief Healer, which neither of them looked particularly enamoured about.

So, with her head held high, she showed herself to the Chief Healer's office.

— — —

Appearing at the grand front door to the office – having gotten herself lost twice along the way – Hermione knocked.

"Come in," a familiar British voice sounded from the other side, and Hermione gently pushed the door open, stepping inside with a smile.

"Hermione Granger," the Chief Healer stood tall in her office, blonde hair cascading down her back in thick, luxurious curls. Her green eyes narrowed playfully and her tongue ran over her lips as she spied the Gryffindor in the doorway. "It's been a long, _long_ time."

"It certainly has," Hermione nodded, holding the gaze. "And while we're here being so very friendly, Cass, I'd like to pick a bone with you about my _male_ patient."

Cassandra Adelaide had been the year above Hermione in school, the two had met when Hermione left Hogwarts to go to school to develop her career as a healer, and needless to say they shared more than just a passion for medicine. There was a time during the War that the witches would work together every day, then spend their evenings enjoying the simple pleasures of each other's company. The War was a hard time for all of them, especially Cass, who lost her entire family to the final battle.

Cass laughed. "Don't hate me, 'Mione. I knew you'd never say yes if you knew it was Lestrange you were taking care of, but this woman could prove herself so useful to us, she could help us understand why the Dark Lord did what he did."

Cass' stance on the war had been a curious one. She didn't have a side, she had a job. Her job was to heal whoever was put in front of her, she didn't care who they were. She found the entire effort quite curious, actually. She wanted to understand why, to delve deep into how the dark side worked, despite Voldemort and his followers being the ones to kill everyone she loved – well, almost everyone.

"Hermione," she said, voice now soft, "I'm sorry, but I had a duty of care when they caught her."

"And now you've transferred that duty to me," Hermione sighed tiresomely, "which is why I'm asking you this now… I need you to remove all internal guards from Bellatrix's cell."

Cass's eyebrows practically knocked against her hairline as she stuttered. "You- you want me to what?"

"The guards beat her up. Now, while I know she's annoying and egotistical, I can't have anyone beating up my patient."

"I don't think you understand," Cass shook her head, "Ministry's orders state that someone needs to be with that woman at all times. So if you want to remove her guard, then I'll find you a bed to put in her room so you can sleep in there with her— wait."

Hermione watched as Cass smiled widely. "I have an idea."

**_— — —_**

Cass always had a way of getting Hermione to do what she wanted her to do. It vexed the brunette in ways she didn't know any person ever could. But, whenever Hermione promises to do something for her old friend, the blonde would smooth it over by promising her dinner and drinks, placing her hand a little too low on her back when they'd hug goodbye.

This idea, however, was batshit crazy.

Bellatrix watched as guards moved in and built Hermione a bed, which they put foot-to-foot with hers. "Moving in with me now, mudblood? A little forward, don't you think?

Hermione glowered at the dark witch, who was sitting up in her own bed as Hermione had ordered her to do to rest. "This is so that you can recover without being in danger of being butchered. Show a little gratitude."

The Slytherin only rolled her eyes, but while Hermione's move-in was taking place, the dark witch watched the healer with a curious expression.

Hermione had been told to only take the essentials into the cell with her; a change of clothes, any healing tools she had, some books to keep her busy in the evenings. A minimum of two guards were positioned outside the door at all times and Hermione was allowed to come and go as she pleased so she may use a private bathroom, get some clean clothes or get some fresh air. The caveat, however, was that Bellatrix could not be left alone for more than fifteen minutes at any time. If Hermione was going to be gone longer than fifteen minutes, she had to take Bellatrix with her.

Cass' idea had been a good one (a crazy one, but a good one), but Hermione wasn't about to risk her relationship with her patient and her patient's general health for anyone, chief, past lover or otherwise.

So, when everyone had left and Hermione settled down on her bed, and Bellatrix asked the brunette why she'd really moved into the cell with her, Hermione had been completely honest.

"The Chief of this institute wants me to persuade you to take part in a programme she's building. It offers prisoners of war houses, money, jobs… anything they need to get back on their feet."

"I don't suppose there's something your beloved Chief would want in return for such things?" Bellatrix's voice verged on sarcastic.

Both witches sat up in their beds facing each over. Bellatrix looked as if she was in a lot of pain, which was likely since the pain-numbing potion Hermione offered her a few hours ago had probably worn off, and her wounds were still sore.

"She wants information about Voldemort and the way he worked," Hermione shrugged. "I know you're not stupid, Bellatrix. If I tried to trick you into taking part, you'd be able to tell I was up to something."

"Why are you telling me this?" Bella asked.

"Because I have a duty to my patient," Hermione sighed. "It's another reason I've moved in here. Once you're better, you'll have to stand in all sorts of trials if you want your freedom, trials that you won't get through alive unless you can show some form of mental stability. Just sitting and smiling at them won't work, you need a report from your healer and to speak the truth in all your trials, which will mean speaking the truth about your… death. You might as well start with me, Lestrange, or you'll never see the outside of these walls."

Those words seemed to sink in and Bellatrix's already pale skin grew paler. She looked down at the two beds, pressed together at their feet, and opened her mouth to speak only to close it again, eyebrows furrowing deeply.

"You can talk to me, I'm still going to uphold patient confidentiality. Whatever you tell me, stays in this room between us, until you're ready for it to go beyond."

The quiet that followed made Hermione's shoulders sag and she gave up, lying down on the bed and facing out towards the open space of the cell. She didn't think Bellatrix would say anything.

"It was a spell that the Dark Lord himself taught me."

Hermione froze, scared to move incase she spooked Bellatrix back into silence, and she listened.

"It was a spell that granted the one who cast it immortality for a certain length of time. After the Weasley mother blew me into a thousand pieces, while you were too busy tending to your dead, my body… reassembled itself. I can't say anymore."

"Why not?" Hermione shifted slowly in her bed and sat up to look at Bella.

"I took an Unbreakable Vow. If I, in any way, tell anyone about how the spell is cast, I am to suffer a fate worse than death," Bellatrix slumped, looking into Hermione's eyes with only sincerity. "Are you happy now, mudblood?"

"That's… astonishing," the Gryffindor blinked. "I mean, it's groundbreaking, that type of magic is amazing!"

"It's also private. While I'm sure you and I _could_ talk for hours about the ins and outs, I'm afraid we wouldn't be talking for long," the dark witch's smile was bitter.

Hermione understood, so she didn't push for more regarding the spell. Instead, she said, "Thank you."

Bellatrix's face contorted with confusion and she almost cringed at the words.

"For being honest," the healer explained, seeing her patient's expression. "I know it wasn't easy for you, but I appreciate it, and it'll help you later on, I promise."

The dark witch's voice turned disapproving. "I don't like people making promises to me."

"I only make the promises I know I can keep," Hermione reassured her, and for the first time, Bellatrix looked comfortable in Hermione's presence.

That comfort was fleeting at most. Bellatrix tested her limits the following day, doing everything from being rude to outright flirting, but Hermione refused to rise to it. She was professional, tried her best to keep her nose in her work and books, but still observed Bellatrix's behaviour from a psychological perspective, finding the dark witch's actions and attitudes towards being locked up amusing, to say the least.

She came up with theories regarding Bellatrix's mental state, whether she had a condition that needed to be treated, whether she'd ever be able to write a positive report to allow her back into society.

Her job was all about physical and mental rehabilitation, and she'd come to the conclusion that she wouldn't be doing her job correctly if she denied Bellatrix that opportunity, despite how many bad things the witch had done.

— — —

A week later, Hermione was convinced that Bellatrix's injuries were nearly completely healed, however, the dark witch still complained of aches and pains. Hermione racked her brains for hours regarding what the pain could be, trying out some different potions and lotions, but reluctant to try others in case they did more harm than good.

Ever since Hermione had moved into Bellatrix's cell, the two spent hours at night talking. They talked about healing, they talked about magic, they talked about school, they talked about pretty much everything and anything that didn't cross the unspoken boundary into their own personal lives.

Hermione found herself fascinated by Bellatrix and everything she had to say. The dark witch wasn't nearly as insane as she'd been depicted to be, despite the fact that she certainly had a wild side. It appeared to the healer that the Dark Lord's death had grounded her, brought her back into the reality she'd grown up in.

That wasn't to say that the first few days were easy. The first few days of the arrangement, Bellatrix's mood swings were a lot for Hermione to grasp. One moment, the dark witch was happy, the other she was not. Also, since Hermione was the only one present, she got the brunt of any bad mood Bellatrix's found herself in. It never extended past a grumpily mumbled "mudblood" or a vague death threat if Hermione weren't to be quiet, but it was enough to make Hermione depressingly turn to rereading an old book.

Besides finding her extraordinarily interesting and being her emotional punching bag, Hermione was beginning to find Bellatrix rather attractive. It was no secret that Hermione was attracted to women much more than men, as her dating history might suggest, and she supposed it should come as no surprise that someone as stunning as Bellatrix would cause that knot to pull in her lower abdomen…

Bellatrix, unlike Hermione, didn't get her own bathroom or new clothes. Instead, the dark witch asked Hermione – politely, for her standards – to get her clothes washed. Hermione complied, figuring it would help Bellatrix's mental state to be dressed in clean clothes. In the meantime, however, Bellatrix had to wear one of the blue patient gowns, which was practically see-through, and Hermione had to watch her every move while she was in it.

The dark witch chose her time away from her restrictive clothing to do exercises to keep her busy and active – which Hermione had also suggested – such as push ups and sit ups. Hermione had to watch the dark witch's gown get further and further more see-through with every bead of sweat that would break, until Bellatrix was exhausted and Hermione could see the Slytherin's nipples and the outline of her abdominal muscles through the wet, clingy fabric.

Bellatrix would then strip off the robe and step into the shower, draping her towel over the half-height stone wall next to the cubicle that surrounded the toilet and gave her minimal privacy while she relieved herself.

Hermione tried not to watch Bellatrix in the shower, but the older witch was just so beautiful…

"See something you like?" Bellatrix asked as she stepped out, steam rolling off her skin.

Hermione's eyes flickered away and she blushed a deep red. Over the past couple of days, Bellatrix had become a lot more playful with Hermione, and Hermione didn't quite know how to handle it.

There had been one occasion when Hermione had been examining the witch and Bellatrix had moved so close to the healer that the two could have kissed if they'd moved just an inch closer. On another occasion, Hermione had returned with Bellatrix's clean robes and the Slytherin had dropped the towel she'd been wearing agonisingly slowly, then getting dressed even slower, all the while watching Hermione watch her with hungry eyes.

Bellatrix stalked up to the Gryffindor where she was sitting on her bed without even grabbing her towel, water dripping all over the floor. "My thigh still hurts, healer. What are you going to do about it?"

As Hermione's eyes raked over Bellatrix's naked body in such close proximity, there were plenty of things she would have done. None of those things, however, coincided with the healer and patient code. Sexual relations with patients in a setting such as theirs was frowned upon, but Bellatrix continued to test Hermione. She knew what the younger girl was thinking about when her eyes fell between the woman's thighs and Hermione ran her tongue over her lips hungrily.

Bellatrix was just as bad. She couldn't deny that seeing Hermione look at her in such a way made her frustrated, but she really did enjoy teasing her healer. What she wasn't prepared for, however, was what Hermione did next.

The brunette placed her hand on Bellatrix's thigh, looking up from where she was sitting on the bed, and she shuffled forward so her legs were dangling over the edge and Bellatrix was standing between them.

Bella looked down at Hermione and saw how easy it would be for the Gryffindor to take one of her nipples in her mouth. Her breathing hitched as a result of the thought, and Hermione noticed.

Bellatrix stepped closer, so close that Hermione's chin touched Bella's breastbone and rested between her boobs as she looked up.

Hermione's nails dug into Bellatrix's thigh and she scraped them down to where the dark witch's knee began, then she ran her hand up the inside and stopped just before she reached Bella's core.

While this was the first time either party had touched each other in such a way, it was not the first time they'd had an overly sexualised stare-off or tried to taunt or tease the other. In fact, there was a lot of tension between them.

Slowly, Hermione's fingers dipped into Bellatrix, facing little resistance when she realised how wet the other woman was. She took her fingers away, slowly bringing them up to her mouth, where she sucked them clean, all the while maintaining complete eye contact with the woman in front of her.

Bellatrix's eyes flashed with desire and her jaw tensed.

"Something the matter?" Hermione raised an eyebrow as she pulled her fingers away from her mouth, her lips now wet with what had been on her fingers.

"You play an unfair game, mudblood," Bellatrix spat.

"I told you before," Hermione's eyes didn't leave the Slytherin's and the corner of her mouth twisted up into a smile, "I'm not playing any games. If you need something from me, all you need to do is ask."

Bellatrix's pride was on the line and Hermione knew it, she knew the gravity of the situation for Bellatrix, what it might mean if the witch were to give in and admit what she wanted. She never expected Bellatrix to be so forward…

"Take care of me, Healer," she grabbed Hermione's arms and pulled her up so she was standing, immediately kissing her.

It was demanding but soft, building slowly into something a lot more. Hermione's breath caught in her throat and her hand went back between Bellatrix's legs, her index finger running slowly over the older woman's clit.

The moan that slipped from Bella's lips was heavenly and Hermione instantly spun her around and pushed her down onto the bed. Bellatrix shuffled backwards, her back against the pillows, to allow Hermione room to crawl up between her legs.

Hermione wasted little time, not bothering to kiss Bella again but instead closing her teeth and lips around one of the woman's nipples. She ran her tongue over it, and with each flick of her tongue, it got harder and harder, and Bellatrix's moans got louder and louder.

The Slytherin's fingers laced themselves in Hermione's hair and started to push her head down. The brunette didn't need to be told twice. She kissed her way down Bella's stomach and licked up the insides of her thighs.

"Come on, muddy…" Bellatrix said through gritted teeth.

"What have I told you about being polite?" Hermione glanced up at the desperate look on the dark witch's face and smirked.

Bella hissed, but when Hermione only held her gaze, she threw her head back and bit her lip, growling in frustration. "Please."

Hermione stuck out her tongue and gently ran it over Bella's clit. The woman shivered beneath her, grasping at her hair tighter. The brunette slowly built up a faster pace and Bellatrix's moans came more broken and her breaths more ragged as time went on.

Hermione lifted one hand and ran two fingers over Bella's entrance, making her gasp loudly as she slipped them inside and began to fuck the ex death eater breathless while also keeping the rhythm with her tongue.

"_Hermione_…" Bellatrix moaned loudly, gasping for her next breath afterwards as she tightened around the brunette's fingers.

Hermione whimpered as she felt Bellatrix cum, the idea that she was causing the dark witch that much pleasure making her want all the same treatment. Bellatrix didn't disappoint.

With barely enough time to catch her breath, Bella pulled Hermione on top of her and sat her on her lap. The raven-haired witch caught Hermione's lips in a kiss and moaned against them when she discovered that they tasted of her.

Hermione was starting to become desperate and, without a second thought, she whipped out her wand and removed her clothes wordlessly, throwing her wand onto Bellatrix's bed so it was out of the way. She wasted no time, grinding down onto Bella's stomach needily and sitting up so she could grab at Bellatrix's breasts.

Bellatrix could feel how wet Hermione was against her skin and she bit her lip, slipping her hand between the young woman's legs and immediately putting two fingers inside, curling them harshly, making Hermione fall forward onto her and bury her face in the dark witch's neck.

"_Bellatrix_," Hermione managed through her moans. "Bellatrix…"

Bella's smirk was smug and she moved her fingers faster. The feel of Hermione's breath, hot against her skin, only fuelled her, making her build in speed until Hermione was a shaking, blubbering mess on top of her.

"Cum for me, dearie," Bellatrix whispered, slowing her thrusts just enough to make the speed agonising, taunting, as she aimed to drag out Hermione's orgasm.

Hermione's legs gave out underneath her and she all but sobbed into Bellatrix's ear as she slowly came undone. Despite it being slow, it was intense and long-lasting, and Hermione's head felt as if it had been filled with cotton wool. She collapsed afterwards, her head resting on Bellatrix's chest as the Slytherin brought her fingers up and ran them over the Gryffindor's lips. The brunette all too eagerly took the fingers in her mouth and sucked them clean.

The silence that followed was awkward and, as if someone had just flipped a light switch in Hermione's head, she climbed off of the woman she was straddling and groped for her wand on Bellatrix's bed.

Fashioning herself some clothes, she sat back down on her bed next to the dark witch and stared at the floor, the reality of what she'd just done hitting her like a moving train.

What had she done?

Sleeping with a patient…

What was she thinking?

She could lose her job…

She looked over at Bellatrix, who was watching her curiously, still naked, still sprawled out across the bed. Still, somehow, the dark witch managed to look elegant. It boggled Hermione's mind.

Trying to make herself sound as professional as possible, despite the constant breaks in her shaky voice, she said, "This is one of those things that stays between us. No one knows about this, no one hears about this and it most certainly doesn't happen again."

"Whatever you say, healer," Bellatrix's smirk widened and her eyes raked over Hermione's form.

"How's your leg?" Hermione immediately tried to change the subject.

"It hurts, but what's new?" the Slytherin shrugged, then followed up with, "How are you feeling?"

"How… how am _I_ feeling?" Hermione stuttered, immediately looking away so that Bella couldn't see her blush. "I'm… I'm… I'm… I'm going to get your clothes, they should be clean by now."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**_ This is LONG overdue and practically unedited but I figured we're all in quarantine so you guys probably don't care if this is one of the worst 10k words I've ever written. The name for the healer school isn't creative, because I'm lazy, but it makes sense lol. You can criticise me if y'all want xD _

_Also, I'm aware that the trial thing I've got going on is a little bit like TGCWW, but it's something that makes sense for every reformed criminal to go through and I couldn't do it any other way and I kinda needed there to be some form of resolution with where Bellatrix went next or there would be no end to this fic so I did it AND I took an idea from Bitter Wake and twisted it, don't me lol._

_THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO'S STILL WITH ME HERE._

— — —

Bellatrix and Hermione didn't speak much beyond their usual patient-healer conversations. Hermione still talked the dark witch through her examinations and Bellatrix still complained incessantly about the mystery pain in her legs, but there were no longer any lengthy conversations at night and the brunette found she would usually just roll over and go to sleep.

That was until one evening, about a week later, when the Chief Healer waltzed into Bellatrix's cell with a challenging and cheeky smile.

It was, of course, aimed at Hermione. Bellatrix watched the two women interact curiously, narrowing her eyes ever so slightly at the warm smile Hermione returned.

"I managed to get you the night off," Cass announced, "and I plan on you spending your night with me; let me take you for dinner. You know, for old time's sake."

The Gryffindor raised an eyebrow. "And bring Bellatrix with us?"

Bellatrix perked up, the idea of being able to leave the hell of a prison cell/hospital room that she'd been locked in being music to her ears. She looked hopefully between the two women in front of her, but her spirits quickly fell when Cass laughed and shook her head.

"Oh, God, no! But I know what you're like… which is why I'm getting this Auror here to make an Unbreakable Vow."

Bellatrix observed bitterly as an Auror — her new babysitter — walked in. The man was tall with hair as dark as his skin, a beautiful set of brown eyes and a muscular frame. He was rather handsome, the Black sister thought, but unfortunately for him, he was not a woman. After years of having to please her repugnant husband, Bella vowed not to touch another man.

She further observed the tall man complete an Unbreakable Vow, to not harm her unless she was endangering his life.

Despite rolling her eyes, Bellatrix was somewhat warmed by the lengths Hermione was going to keep her safe. Vows were no joke…

As quickly as Cass had arrived, she was leaving with Hermione on her arm, and Bellatrix was left in the company of the very tall man and Hermione's pile of books that she'd left by her bed.

This was going to be a long night.

And it was, but the Auror wasn't the worst company, Bella found. For one, he didn't beat her up.

"You didn't have anything better to do?" she asked him, lying crosslegged on her bed with her hands tucked comfortably behind her head.

He looked at her from his position at the door. "This is a great honour."

"Why, thank you," the Black sister replied dryly.

"Not regarding you, Madame Lestrange. To be called on for a job that required an Unbreakable Vow… it's incredible."

Bellatrix scoffed and rolled her eyes. "You take your job way too seriously."

The Auror's eyes flickered over her and he ignored her remark, not rising to it. He just sighed and stared at the wall, standing sentry at the door like he'd been asked to.

Bellatrix wondered, for a moment, if it was worth starting trouble. When she thought about starting something with the Auror, however, guilt washed over her. The only person who would get in trouble is Hermione and for whatever messed up reason, Bella didn't want that. So, instead of carrying on, her and the Auror didn't say a word for the rest of the night and Bellatrix decided to pick up some of Hermione's muggle literature.

— — —

Hermione crept back into the room in the early hours of the morning. She quietly dismissed the Auror by the door, thinking Bellatrix to be asleep. Instead of leaving to change, she quickly slipped off the dress she'd changed into when she'd returned home, before Cass had picked her up from her house, and pulled on her pyjamas.

Her night with Cass had been much like the night's they'd spent together during the war, only slightly more glamorous. Before, there had not been dinner beforehand, they had just indulged in the pleasures the other had to offer. This, however, had been different. There had been something a lot more personal about it, something Hermione didn't know if she liked. She would always love Cass, but she wasn't sure if she loved her the same way she used to.

Before she could pull her top on, Bellatrix's voice broke the silence, making the brunette jump and squeal with fright.

"Good night?"

Once Hermione had recovered, she sighed, nodding in the dim light that the lit candles provided. "Very good."

"You're lying," Bellatrix rolled over and looked at Hermione, who was facing away from her, clutching her shirt to her naked chest.

"What?" Hermione scoffed, panicking slightly. "No, I'm not."

Bellatrix smirked, climbing out of her bed in her nightgown, approaching Hermione and running her fingers down the younger woman's spine. It made goosebumps rise over her skin, a shiver running through her, and Bellatrix felt it beneath her fingertips. It only made her smirk more.

"Was she nothing compared to me?"

Hermione turned, still holding her shirt to her chest and glared at the dark witch. "We said we'd never speak of that!"

Bellatrix looked Hermione hungrily up and down. She had no shame admitting to what she wanted, not under her current circumstance. Hermione was a beautiful woman and lust knew no boundaries when it came to blood. Since Voldemort's demise, Bellatrix had held her standards, but standards could always be lowered if they needed to be. And it wasn't as if Bellatrix _cared_ for the girl…

"No, muddy, _you_ said we'd never speak of that."

"And _you_ agreed," Hermione answered back.

Bellatrix chuckled. "Did I?"

Hermione'd eyebrows furrowed. "Why are you doing this? Why don't you just… go back to bed?"

"And here I was, preparing myself for 'go to hell' and you come back with 'go back to bed'?" Bellatrix tilted her head to one side.

Hermione growled frustratedly. "Just… turn around, at least."

"Nothing I haven't seen before."

"Nothing you need to see again."

"Oh, on the contrary, dearie… did she fuck you like I did? Did she make you shiver?" Bellatrix stepped closer and pressed her lips right up against Hermione's ear. "You shake a little when you cum, you know? And you make this _wonderful_ little noise… Tell me, muddy, did you make that noise for her?"

Hermione's breathing hitched in her throat. The honest answer was no. The sex with Cass had never been more than satisfactory, they'd always been better as friends, they just got lost in things a little too much, but she wasn't about to tell Bellatrix that.

But suddenly, all Hermione could think about was Bella's tongue on her nipples and having the woman knuckle-deep inside her, and the thoughts wouldn't stop.

_One more time won't hurt,_ she thought.

Bellatrix could see it in Hermione's eyes when she'd decided to give in, because they'd gone from being very conflicted and marginally disgusted to hungry and desperate. It was a look that Bellatrix adored on any woman, but she especially enjoyed it on Hermione.

"Your move, mudblood."

The derogatory term made Hermione's stomach knot in ways she never thought it would. It was barbaric that such a vile term would make wetness pool between her legs, but it did.

Hermione closed the distance between them and kissed the dark witch fiercely.

It was a kiss that didn't last long before Hermione had dropped her shirt and Bellatrix's fingers were tugging achingly at Hermione's nipples. Each pinch and tug coaxed out another moan from the brunette's now-swollen and wet lips. Bellatrix enjoyed listening to Hermione's moans more than she'd ever enjoyed listening to any other woman's.

Shoving the girl down onto her bed, Bellatrix broke the kiss to allow her time to climb on top of her and straddle her, slender hands running up and down the Gryffindor's sides.

There was the sound of the door swinging open, sounding so distant to the women who were wrapped in each other's embrace. Bellatrix was the one to notice first and she lifted her eyes, lips still against Hermione's shoulder.

The Chief Healer's second hand stood in the doorway, her small mouth agape so it formed a perfect O, framed by dark hair and a slim face.

Bellatrix saw Hermione's wand lying on the bed and she grasped it, aiming it at the woman and casting Obliviate on her before she could close the door and run.

By the time Hermione had had the time to register what had just happened, she hissed at Bellatrix and snatched back her wand, climbing off of the dark witch and magicking them both some clothes.

"Why did I…?" the Chief's second blinked, then her eyebrows furrowed and she looked down at the floor with a confused expression. Eventually, she gave up and slowly turned on her heels, making her way out of the door.

As soon as the door had slammed shut, Hermione turned on Bellatrix, whipping around and pointing her wand at her. "_You_ are not allowed to use magic, especially on the _Deputy Chief Healer_! Do you have any idea how reckless that was? She could have retaliated, you could have been killed — _I _could have been in big trouble for this!"

"But you're not," Bellatrix gestured towards the door as if the Deputy would still be standing there. "Instead, the girl has no memory of anything she's done in the past ten minutes, which I believe to be safer than letting her wander the halls with the memory of what greeted her when she opened that door."

"You're infuriating!"

"I'm clever, and so are you, so I don't understand why you're mad about this!"

Hermione blinked. _Clever_ was never a word she expected Bellatrix to use to describe her…

"Well? You just going to stare blankly at me?" Bellatrix snapped. "Maybe you're not as clever as I thought."

_There she is… _Hermione thought bitterly as Bellatrix's usual snarky facade returned.

The dark witch turned around and slouched down onto her bed, a clear pout on her face. She didn't understand Hermione sometimes, why the woman got so frantic about things that weren't actually that big a deal. It wasn't like she'd done the wrong thing; she'd just saved Hermione's job! She realised as she pouted that the healer's words had cut her deeper than she was comfortable with.

— — —

Hermione's office was dimly lit, just as she liked it when she reflected on her memories. She liked the quiet, the cosy atmosphere, the soft purr of Crookshanks in the corner.

Cass had noticed that Hermione looked a little overwhelmed the following morning and had told Hermione to take the night off for herself, since Bellatrix would be sleeping anyway and she promised to watch the dark witch herself. Hermione knew Cass would probably just lie on her bed and read her books all night.

Somewhere inside her, Hermione hoped Bellatrix didn't talk in her sleep while Cass was there. Hermione had pieced together a small chunk of Bellatrix's childhood just from listening to the woman sleep, but there was something very intimate about listening to the mutters and cries, something she was very protective over, something she didn't think Cass had any right to listen to... which was stupid, because anything regarding her patient should be open and accessible to the Chief Healer, but Hermione couldn't help how she felt.

Crookshanks mewed.

Poor Crookshanks had barely seen Hermione besides when he shows up mysteriously at St. Mungo's and terrorised the Chief, which is when Hermione is called away from Bellatrix to deal with the animal. He's only trying to visit her, but recently he has got the idea that he's better staying at home and being petted and fed by Hermione's neighbour.

Hermione had a row of vials lined up, a trip down memory lane she hadn't taken in a while. She caught herself wondering today how she got to where she was, and after all the advice McGonagall had given her over the years, she thought that a recap would help her see things in a different light.

_The end of Hermione's third year was approaching. _

_Her education at the Wizarding school so far had been enlightening, exciting, and she felt content where she was. However, she strived to be more. She found she most enjoyed healing, that she excelled in those areas, and she believed nothing came close to the feeling of successfully mending someone's wounds._

_The science of it all was also fascinating. Since Hermione had been brought up in the muggle world, she was familiar with the scientific medical terms for a lot of the injuries and illnesses medics came across, which gave her the upper hand when it came to finding an appropriate healing potion or spell. _

_It was for those reasons that Hermione had turned to McGonagall for advice. _

_The professor had handed her a Time Turner, which she had already successfully used to not only attend more classes than physically deemed possible but also to save Sirius and Buckbeak from death, but still Hermione's educational wants were not sated. _

_She knocked on the Transfiguration teacher's door and, to her delight, was greeted with a light, "Come in." _

_"Ah," Minerva smiled as Hermione approached her, "Miss Granger. How can I help you this evening?" _

_"Professor," Hermione began, taking a pause to watch her teacher stack up the remaining books from her last class of the day and banish them to the shelves with a flick of her wand, "I was interested in what you mentioned to me at the beginning of the year, about the School of Medicine."_

_McGonagall had mentioned to Hermione after handing over the Time Turner that her particular talents would be appreciated in a small school situated not far from Hogwarts itself. It was a boarding school but could only house about thirty students at a time. Funded by the Ministry, the school was selective and only let in students who showed particular promise and skill in the area of medicine from the age of thirteen. _

_"What did you want to know?" Minerva asked and she motioned for Hermione to take a seat in one of the chairs as she took a seat in the one next to it. _

_The professor had always been more relaxed around Hermione, more friendly towards her than most other students. Hermione liked McGonagall's classes and the witch's skill caught her in awe in most cases, she was someone she looked up to. _

_"I would like to know how to get into the school," the brunette said warily, then hurried on to say, "I love it at Hogwarts but I just feel I'd be better put to use, feel that I'd be able to do more with what they'd be able to teach me."_

_Minerva smiled knowingly, placing a reassuring hand on Hermione's shoulder. "I knew you would. Of course, we will be sad to see you go, but I have already secured you a place. The school have been aware of you since your first year." _

_Hermione blinked, jaw slack, speechless. _

_Minerva sounded like she was holding back a laugh when she continued. "I didn't want to hurry you. I knew you would discover your talent sooner or later, but I felt it was appropriate to leave it up to you alone. I wanted to mention it at the start of the year so that you knew you had a choice. You really are the brightest witch of your age." _

_"Thank you, Professor," Hermione blushed slightly, modesty taking over. "I would like to go." _

_She thought of Harry and Ron and her heart sunk. Of course, she hadn't mentioned it to them. She was afraid that they would talk her out of it, tell her how much they'd miss her, but she knew she would have to tell them now as McGonagall handed her an application form. _

_"You'll likely be accepted regardless– my judgement means a lot to the Headmistress, since I have handed them and tutored some of their best medics–" Minerva sounded almost smug as she said this, "but this form is personal. Fill it out tonight and I will send it off as soon as you bring it back."_

_The Gryffindor House Mistress nodded her head once before standing and walking over to her bookshelf. _

_Hermione watched her scan it for a short moment, head tilted as she ran her finger along the spines, until she carefully plucked a read from its place and walked back over to her student. _

_Hermione took it when it was offered to her and she read the title. _

Harpy's Guide to a Happy Healer

_"Harpy was a very successful healer. He didn't create anything himself, but he perfected a lot of arts surrounding healing, not to mention it's an excellent read. I recommend it."_

_"Thank you," Hermione hugged the book and application form to her chest, smiling up at her teacher. _

_It was a bittersweet feeling, to think that when she left Hogwarts this year she wouldn't be returning, but Hermione continued to smile as she made her way to the great hall to do homework. _

_Hermione's introduction into the School of Medicine the following year was an interesting one._

_She was collected by a teacher, a woman who introduced herself as the Headmistress, Professor Lorrington. Eve Lorrington was a muggleborn and made a point of saying that they didn't get many muggleborns interested in healing._

_"The last successful muggleborn healer was myself," the tall middle-aged woman said in a soft voice. Hermione found it almost hypnotic, the way she spoke, and was instantly captivated the moment the woman opened her mouth. "I'm so glad to have someone with your potential on board with us, Miss Granger." _

_They had then apparated from her parent's house to the school, landing on a pathway that lead up to a small stone house. It was almost Victorian-looking, but Hermione knew it was much older than that. _

_Ancient oaks lined the pathway and open fields stretched for miles, home to a selection of magical animals– winged horses, hippogriffs, even a unicorn!– and they all seemed to live in perfect harmony. _

_"Like Hogwarts, apparition and disapparition inside the school is not permitted," Lorrington explained. _

_"These trees here," she pointed to two trees on opposite sides of the pathway, both bearing reddish leaves, "mark the boundary. Only those whose intentions are pure may pass through without assistance and the anti apparition jinx assures that no one can appear beyond the line, pure intentions or not."_

_"Wow…" Hermione admired her surroundings as they passed the boundary and Hermione immediately felt safe, safer than she'd ever felt at Hogwarts. It was as if someone had wrapped her in a blanket and was cuddling her, cooing softly to her as if to a baby. _

_"We only take about five or six new students a year. The dormitories are on the top floor, separated by year and gender. The head girl will give all new students a tour after lunch, so for now, you can put your bags down in my office." _

_Hermione followed Eve through the main double doors, which were solid oak, and walked into a massive entryway. It was open and, branching off were two staircases and a few doors. There were small tables and large ornaments, the floors and walls made of stone. It reminded Hermione of Hogwarts in a way. _

_The first set of double doors, ones right at the end of the entryway, lead to the Headmistress' office. In small piles dotted around the room were suitcases, items of luggage, owls and other companions in their appropriate travel cages. Hermione found an open spot and put her bags down. Eve had taken one for her, the biggest one, and she placed it next to Crookshanks' travel crate. _

_The office was big, but cozy. Bookshelves lined the walls along with portraits and other photographs. There was a mahogany desk and a particularly cozy-looking office chair, then by the window, there was a wooden structure, similar to that of the type of branches Hermione remembered her muggle childhood friend's lizard basking on in his tank. _

_At the very top, laying lazily over the branch, was a Moke. _

_Hermione eyed it suspiciously, but it did not stir. _

_"That is Cret, which is short for Cretin."_

_"Why Cretin?" Hermione asked. _

_"I rescued him from a horrible man, someone who performed all types of tests on deformed magical creatures. It was the only name he responded to, so I shortened it to Cret," Eve explained. _

_Hermione glanced at her new headmistress as she went over and gently petted the top of the reptile's head. Her dark hair came down to the middle of her back in waves, which Hermione noticed had been left loose. _

_Lorrington gently scooped up the creature, which gurgled in response, and showed Hermione its right hind leg, which was missing a foot. _

_"Poor thing," Hermione frowned. _

_"He does fine without it. He doesn't really leave his branch much, despite the fact that he has every opportunity to," the Headmistress gestured to the open window, then she turned to the carrier case that Hermione had brought with her. "You have a kneazle?" _

_"I do," Hermione knelt down next to her orange cat who mewled at her. "This is Crookshanks." _

_The cat mowed again and Eve laughed lightly. "For Merlin's sake, let him out. They hate being caged. Not like owls, they don't really mind much." _

_Hermione did as Eve said and Crookshanks was up on the desk before the brunette could even reach to stroke him. She jumped up and went to grab her cat. _

_"I'm sorry!" _

_"No, no," Lorrington waved her hand at Hermione, stopping her from grabbing Crookshanks and putting him on the floor, so that she could stroke the animal which has bounded up to greet her. "He's lovely. When settled, owls are kept in the Owlery, but other animals such as Kneazles are welcome to roam the grounds. They are trusted not to cause any trouble. This is a very peaceful place." _

_Hermione settled as Crookshanks purred at Eve, tilting his head to give her better access to behind his ears. _

_"Suck up," she muttered at him when he shot her a smug glance. _

_Lorrington chuckled. "Do you have any questions?"_

_"None that I'm sure won't be answered over time," Hermione replied, then her eyes flickered up to her new teacher. "Actually, Professor?" _

_"Yes?"_

_"Am I still a Gryffindor? Hogwarts was like a second home to me and my house…" _

_Eve nodded. "Once placed in a house at any wizarding school, a person will always be in that house. Come on, I'll show you to the lunch hall." _

_The lunch hall was small. Hermione didn't know what she had expected– perhaps her expectations were a little higher than usual since she'd attended Hogwarts– but she still thought the room was beautiful. _

_The walls and floors were the same stone as Lorrington's office. There were portraits hung evenly around the room and there was one massive table where elves pottered around setting the necessary places. _

_Some students were already gathered in a corner by the door below a lit torch, talking amongst themselves. They all looked about Hermione's age and Eve gestured to them. _

_"You can go and stand with the other first years. It was lovely to meet you, Miss Granger, but I must tend to other duties. I will be seeing you for classes soon." _

_Hermione smiled up at her and nodded. "Thank you."_

_With that, the woman turned and left, walking back the way they had came. _

_Hermione turned to the group of students and her stomach churned. Nerves. Hermione wasn't generally one to get nervous around people but it was something about people her own age in particular that made her want to run for the hills. _

_She carefully approached the other first year students and they all smiled at her, saying hello and introducing themselves. They all seemed really nice, to Hermione's delight. _

_"I'm Hermione," the Gryffindor said._

_"Adalyn, it's a pleasure to meet you," one of the girls spoke with a slight French accent and Hermione wondered if she may have come from Beauxbatons. _

_When the tall blonde girl continued to greet her with a kiss on each cheek, Hermione was certain, a blush crept up her neck. _

_"You, too." _

_There was another girl who only smiled through the gaps in her brown hair which covered her face, eyes nervously flickering down to the ground again when Hermione met her gaze. _

_Hermione decided to leave introductions to later, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. _

_There were two boys and they both waved at her and said "hey" simultaneously. Hermione recognised their accents as American and she suspected they were from Ilvermorny. _

_Slowly, other students started to filter into the hall, ones who seemed to know what they were doing, and Hermione watched them all take a seat at the large table. _

_All except one. _

_There was one girl who stood in dark robes and a badge pinned to it. It read, Head Girl._

_"Alright, first years!" she called out, clapping her hands to get their attention. _

_She was British, Hermione noticed, and she wore a rather sexy suit under her robes, something Hermione rarely saw on witches or wizards. Her hair was golden brown, tied back into a neat bun, and her nails were perfectly manicured. _

_"My name's Cass, I'm head girl. I'll be showing you around after lunch. For the meantime, please take your seats at the table, sit wherever you like. Once everyone else has left the hall, I'll begin the tour." _

_The new students all nodded their heads. _

_As Hermione took her seat, a seat on it's own at the end of the table opposite a teacher that she didn't know, she felt overwhelmed. It was all so new! Over the holidays, she had studied until the early hours of dawn almost every night, but it felt so odd not switching to study transfiguration at some point. It was weird to her that she hadn't read anything on duelling since the end of her third year at Hogwarts. It was even weirder that she wasn't going back. _

_For the first time since arriving, she missed her old school. _

_Cass took a seat next to her, smiling as food appeared on their plates. "Hi, you must be Hermione Granger." _

_"You know me?" the Gryffindor's eyebrows raised. How odd. _

_"Of course, you're the first muggleborn we've had in the school since I arrived in my first year! It was the talk of the hallways when everyone arrived a couple days ago," the head girl chuckled. _

_"Oh, God," Hermione put her head in her hands with a heavy sigh. _

_"Oh, no!" Cass jumped immediately, obviously now realising what her words might've meant to the younger girl. "No, not like that. We don't care about blood status in this school, it's just such an unusual thing because usually healers who end up at this school are ones who have been driven towards the profession from a really young age by their parents. You don't have to worry about prejudice here. If you have any problems, if I can't deal with it, Eve does. Have you met our Headmistress?" _

_Hermione noted the use of the Headmistress' first name, nodding. "Yes."_

_"She's wonderful, isn't she?" Cass beamed, her face glowing. _

_Hermione narrowed her eyes slightly with another slow nod. "Yeah, she's great." _

_"She's the best professor I've ever had," Cass picked up her fork, still smiling, as she tucked into her food. _

_Hermione caught Eve's eye from across the table, but it was clear that the Gryffindor was not the one she was looking at. _

_She blinked, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable, and immediately changed the subject. "So, is there a head boy, too?"_

_"Hm?" Cass looked up, swallowing her mouthful before she registered what Hermione had asked. "Oh. No, just one head student a year."_

_"So you only have head girls?" the brunette eyed the badge, picking up her fork and starting to dig into her own food. It was noodles in some sort of sauce she couldn't quite identify. _

_When she tasted it, however, she was more than happy. _

_She noticed that the lunch hall was a lot quieter than the one at Hogwarts– of course, it would be– and there was just the gentle clatter of plates and the low hum of conversation, as if they were in a restaurant. _

_Cass shook her head. "No, we have a head boy position, too, but only one student is elected each year. It's down to performances over the years, and potential. The head student should be someone who can tutor others and someone who has a lot of ambition and experience, it's important." _

_"But why not have a head boy and a head girl?" Hermione questioned further. "Surely, it would make sense."_

_"It eliminates the segregation of the sexes," Cass continued. "This school is about equal chances, it's why we only separate classes by year. There are no houses and the only time we separate genders is through the means of dorms." _

_This made a lot of sense and Hermione shrugged, giving a nod. "I suppose."_

_After lunch, the tour was given. _

_Hermione walked close to Cass the entire way, nervous about socialising with her peers._

_They were shown the owlery, each classroom, where to find every hall, and each student was given a map. They were also given a class timetable, then boys were shown to the boys dorms by an older male student and Hermione and her fellow female students were shown to their dorm. _

_She was grouped with two other girls. There was the blonde french girl, Adalyn, and the shy brown-haired girl who Hermione still didn't know the name of. _

_There were three beds, the room set up especially for them, and Hermione immediately rushed towards the one by the window, Crookshanks jumping up onto the covers with a happy mewl. _

_The other two girls settled and engaged in conversation, but Hermione quickly engrossed herself in writing a letter to Harry and Ron to tell her all about her new school. _

_Hermione faced her second year in the School of Medicine, what would have been her fifth year at Hogwarts. She had friends... everything was almost perfect. _

_"You'll never guess," Cass slumped down next to her in the owlery, the two sat on the floor against the wall. She knew all Hermione's favourite free period hiding spots. "Apparently, 'volunteering' constitutes sitting and organising the Library. I miss actually being a student here, it was so much better!"_

_"I love the library," Hermione shrugged, "I'll help. And hey, don't say that, you can climb in bed with Professor Lorrington anytime you want now."_

_Cass laughed, tongue caught between her teeth. "That's nice, that's a good one. Only… no, we can't, because I'm still technically her student and she could lose her job. The fact that _you_ know is bad enough."_

_"You weren't exactly subtle about it," the brunette waved her pen at the woman who had become her closest friend since the beginning of her second year. The two had clicked during her first year and, because of how mature Hermione was as a teen, age wasn't much of an issue. They just made fast friends. Hermione also found comfort in being friends with someone who was so comfortable with their sexuality. Hermione had never had an issue when it came to her own sexuality, but Cass gave great advice and that made the whole process a lot easier for the Gryffindor. _

_Cass gave a dramatic sigh. "What can I say? Love's an ocean and I was carried by its waves." _

_"You're so classically…" _

_"What?"_

_"Gay." _

_"I have no idea what you mean," Cass examined her nails as if they were manicured (they were not, they were short and bitten) and gave a blasé shrug. "I'm as straight as they come." _

_"Falling for your teacher is one of the biggest clichés in lesbian literature. You're the poster child for a lesbian fiction novel," Hermione argued, a smile stretching across her face. She loved Cass' nerdy gay facade, but underneath, Cass was just _gay_._

_"Of course, Little Miss I Love The Library would know." Another sigh. "So how's it going with Adalyn?" _

_Hermione closed her notebook and shook her head. "Nothing is _going_ with Adalyn. I told you, I'm waiting for the right moment."_

_"Pfft!" the graduate scoffed. "You're scared. Just make a move, she's had her eyes on you since you arrived. I saw her checking you out in your first year. Just do it, you share a dorm with the girl, it's basically being served to you on a gold platter, you're mad to wait. Be sure of yourself." _

_"You think?" Hermione looked towards her best friend with a small smile. _

_The older girl nodded adamantly, eyes flickering over Hermione's form. "I'm sure." _

_Hermione was curled in a ball on a bed in a guesthouse. She was hoping for Cass to arrive, who she prayed was going to be assigned her partner in the war effort. Healers were being paired for protection and to speed up basic healings so they could move onto the next. No one was told who their partner would be, they were just assigned to a case and a guesthouse, and left to it. When they walked into their rooms in the guesthouses, they would find out who their partner was. _

_In less than a timely fashion, Cass stumbled in. She was drunk. _

_"Cass?!" The Gryffindor snapped, having not seen or heard from her best friend in over a month, the only indication that she was alive being reports from other healers. "You've been drinking?!"_

_Cass slumped down on the small creaky iron framed bed, looking around at the peeling grey walls and old wooden floors. She slowly crumbled and began to cry. _

_"What?" Hermione's anger vanished. "What's wrong?_

_"Eve… she died. Snatchers. She… she left me this," Cass' voice broke, despite being a monotone. She handed Hermione a letter, which looked so hurried Hermione could barely read it. _

_'Love, they're here. There's too many of them, I can't apparate without my wand and I can't get to it. There's likely a healthy bounty on my head. This is where it ends. I have to wave the white flag, I don't stand a chance. But you do. I believe in you, my darling. I love yo'… it trailed off, turning into panicked squiggles that didn't make sense. _

_"I've been drinking through her whisky cabinet for the last month since I found her. She had a lot of old stuff in there… strong stuff…" _

_"Oh, Cass…" Hermione placed the letter back in her friend's lap._

_"I'm sorry, I didn't tell you. I thought you'd find out on your own but…" Cass looked at Hermione and, for the first time, she saw her. No longer caught in the waves of Ocean Eve, Cass saw Hermione and she wanted her. She craved the touch of someone close to her and Hermione was the next best thing. _

_It was odd how something so unnatural happened so naturally. Before either of them could fully process the situation, their lips were against each other's and their hands were inside their shirts. It was as if they were dying of thirst and their bodies were tall cold glasses of water. Suddenly, they both needed the contact as much as the other, and they gave into it gladly. _

_The war raged and, held up in a tent in a frosty wood — a freshly graduated and official healer — Hermione laughed over a mug of steaming hot chocolate with a slim, blonde haired woman who was just under four years her senior. The memory was hazy because of how tired Hermione had been at the time, and she found it was more vague than she remembered it being._

_With no boundaries or laws keeping Hermione and Cass apart when the war started and Hermione's graduation being advanced so she could aid the war effort, Hermione and Cass tapped into a part of their relationship they never had before. They worked hard without a doubt, but at the end of the day, when they went to sleep only to wake up the next day and travel more or heal the next wounded, they had each other. Hermione trusted Cass with her life, and Cass trusted Hermione with hers. _

_"You should have seen the look on his face, he was like, BLUAH!" Cass' eyes overflowed with tears as she mocked an enemy's fear when Hermione had flung a hex at him for threatening Cass. _

_Hermione laughed, placing a hand on the blonde girl's thigh, almost as if for support. "He was not happy."_

_"You did a great job, thank you," Cass smiled warmly. _

_Hermione leaned in slightly, eyes flickering down to Cass' lips. _

_It didn't take long for the two women to be kissing and buried naked together under their blankets, tangled in each other's arms and legs, ragged and uneven breaths not passing the enchantments they'd put up around them. They were happy, despite everything that was happening around them. It was as if the simple act of feeling another person's body heat made all the madness okay. _

_Hermione, having been deeply infatuated with Cass since she met her, smiled as the kiss broke, but then the smile fell. "What will happen, after the war? With us…" _

_"Well, that depends on who's alive, I suppose," Cass blinked. _

_It was an unfortunate reality. Hermione and Cass were on their way to a group of wizards who needed aid, but getting to them had proven more difficult than they imagined. Unable to apparate due to a jinx from an unknown source, they had to travel on foot. There was a chance that it could be a trap, but it was a risk they had to take. _

_"I'll always protect you," the Gryffindor vowed. "Always." _

_"I will always protect you, too, no matter what," the soon-to-be-Chief's eyes were so soft, it was like touching cloud just looking at them, and they carried on their night, getting lost in touch. _

— — —

Hermione sat across from Bellatrix and she sighed, putting her face in her hands, elbows balanced on her knees. She was exasperated; she was confused.

The Ministry were preparing and pushing to have Bellatrix put to death, which was now a concept Hermione was more uncomfortable about than Bella. The dark witch seemed to have given up. No longer the bold, brassy Bellatrix Black, this was the defeated shell of Bellatrix Lestrange.

She barely ever read, she barely spoke, she didn't even try to instigate some form of sexual contact with Hermione, besides one time when Bellatrix had been taking a shower and, as if they were a normal married couple, she asked the younger witch to join her. Hermione had, stripping down her clothes and stepping into the shower cubicle with the woman.

Bellatrix had admired her, her hands running over Hermione's waist. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

Hermione then watched, very carefully, as the expression on the death eater's face twisted and contorted into one of pain and the raven-haired woman began to cry.

She dropped to her knees in front of Hermione, her hands resting on her healer's thighs. Hermione laced her fingers in Bella's hair and pulled her close so the woman's cheek was against her belly. There, the two stayed for a long moment, the shower raining down on both of them, until Bellatrix had composed herself and she got up, carrying on her shower like nothing had ever happened.

Since then, there had been barely any contact at all.

"What's bothering you, muddy? You haven't looked this dishevelled since..." Bellatrix trailed off, arching an eyebrow perfectly.

"I'm bothered by the fact that the Ministry wants you dead and you're not doing anything about it! You're not improving, you're not talking... you're not doing a thing! Why don't you want to help yourself, you've come so far?" Hermione found that towards the end of her paragraph, she had started tapping her foot and she had to make a conscious effort not to.

"And why," the dark witch enquired with a further raise of the same eyebrow, "would you care?"

"You're my patient, I've put a lot of... effort... into you-"

"I'd say!"

"Bellatrix!" Hermione scalded. "You know what I mean, I've spent a lot of time getting through to you and now you're just..."

"What?" Bella prompted.

Hermione frowned. "It's like you don't even care, and after all we've done. Why?"

Bellatrix's sigh was defeated. "Because my life doesn't really mean that much. Not anymore."

This was a stage in patient psychiatric progression which Hermione was very familiar with, she'd just hoped that Bellatrix's generally quite ballsy nature would cause for her to bypass it. This was the depressive phase.

When a criminal, generally ones who followed Voldemort, were faced with what they'd done and the impact of their actions, they gave up. They began to get depressed, because they didn't feel like there was a way out for them. Unfortunately for Bellatrix, it was unlikely that she'd walk away without a death sentence, especially considering her recent behaviour.

"If you want me out that badly, write something false. I'll play along for your sake and we can call it a day. I go free, you move on, I go and crucify myself..."

"Bella!"

"Mudblood, listen. There's no reason to fight. I made my bed, now I'm going to die in it. Now if you knew what was good for you, you'd leave me alone."

Hermione stared into the eyes of the patient in the bed across from her and sighed. There was one last thing she hadn't tried, but it could come back to bite her. Immediately, she pulled out some parchment and her quill from a box under her bed, and she started writing a letter.

— — —

The day Hermione feared was edging nearer. Hand delivered, Hermione received a formal letter from the Ministry about Bellatrix's upcoming trial. They asked for her opinion as to when would be a fair and suitable time for the trial to take place. This was basic procedure. The courts always asked the Healer about whether the patient needed more time before they set a date, but they seemed a little less likely to give Bellatrix the time she needed, which made Hermione's anxiety worse.

Right now, however, Hermione was 'taking a well-deserved few hours to herself'. At least, that's what Cass believed while she watched Bellatrix. Instead, Hermione was walking into a potentially dangerous situation for the benefit of a woman who probably didn't care about her one bit.

The front door to the small house in the muggle suburbs was perfectly painted a deep green which added contrast against the red brick. It was a beautiful house, not much unlike the one Hermione grew up in. She wished she could see her parents for a moment.

Narcissa opened the door.

The woman wore a black dress and robe, and looked like she'd aged twenty years since Hermione had last seen her. Dark shadows cast under her eyes and her cheekbones jutted out as if she'd lost weight. The stress of the war and hiding hadn't been kind to her.

"Miss Granger, come in," she addressed her.

"Thank you," Hermione stepped inside with a small smile.

"You said in your letters that it was about Bellatrix? She's with you, she's safe? I apologise, it's taken me a few days to ready myself for visitors," the youngest Black sister seemed frantic, leading her through a dark hallway towards the soft light from the lamps in the living room.

Hermione took note of her surroundings. It was very much a muggle home, no more than two or three bedrooms by the look of it. She wondered who the home really belonged to until, in the dimly lit room, she saw a photo of Nymphadora Tonks hanging on the wall. She thought that it must be the Tonks' family house and wondered where the second Black sister was.

"She's safe for now," Hermione said skeptically, "but she needs someone to make her fight for herself. It's my belief that she's given up. She doesn't believe she's worth saving."

Narcissa dropped her head, sitting on one of the two sofas. "Please, take a seat. I need you to explain, why is it exactly that you've chosen to get in contact with me?"

Following Narcissa's example, Hermione looked across at the other woman. "I need someone to remind Bellatrix of who she is. She's lost sight of herself and she's gone off the rails. She's not even dangerous, she's just given up. She doesn't care, she doesn't want trouble, she just wants to lie in bed all day and read the same boring book. She has a trial coming up, which will determine whether she lives or dies but she just doesn't care. She doesn't even believe she'll pass. There's no light in there anymore, it's just dark. It's like she thinks she's already dead."

Narcissa's expression was dull. "But, Miss Granger, my sister has done terrible things," for a moment, the Malfoy's eyes landed on Nymphadora's photo and the word 'terrible' dripped with a level of guilt that Hermione couldn't begin to fathom, but why Narcissa would feel guilty was beyond her. "If she's given up, it's most likely because there's nothing to fight for."

"But she's wrong!" Hermione exploded, catching the Black sister off guard. "I've been making progress, good progress, and I've been getting through to her. But ever since…" she trailed off. _Ever since the Deputy Chief Healer walked in on us and we argued, she hasn't been the same. _"She's just not the same."

"And what do you expect me to be able to do about it? Bellatrix has lived her life how she wanted to live it, she usually didn't consider others in her later years. What bearing do you reckon I'm going to have over her attitude towards the twisted mind game you like to call therapy?" the Black's lips pressed into a thin line.

"I need you to help me save her life and I think that you might have something that _can_ help. I don't know… talk to her? Meet with her? Tell me something about her that will make her want to fight," Hermione pleaded.

"And why do you care about whether my sister lives or dies?" Narcissa's eyes narrowed.

Hermione contemplated her answer for a short moment. "Because I believe there is good in her, and I believe she deserves this. She's worked so hard for it, until recently. She'd been opening up, she's been rational and she's been in the present. I've had people with less trauma than her come out much worse. I've watched patients I've cared for and rehabilitated get a death sentence, it happens, but I don't want that to happen to her, I… I just need someone to remind her what she's fighting for."

Narcissa pursed her lips. "I cannot visit her, you will have to give her a message from me, but it will have to be powerful enough that it will make her want to fight. Can you get her access to a Pensieve?"

Hermione thought about that. Yes, she could, but that would involve bringing Bellatrix with her not only into the outside world but also into her home and office. That was risky business. Quickly, she decided the possible reward outweighed the risk, and she nodded.

She hurried to find something suitable to put the memory in as Narcissa slowly pulled it from her temple. Luckily, Hermione carried little vials around with her in case she ever wanted to keep a memory fresh. She retrieved one from a pocket and handed it to the witch before her, taking it back when a silvery mist swirled inside.

"This will break my sister or be her new beginning. Either way, be prepared, because it's not going to be easy."

— — —

Cass wasn't very happy about Hermione saying she wanted to take Bellatrix home with her for an evening. Hermione insisted she had work to do and her office was the best place to do that, and that considering she wasn't supposed to leave Bellatrix alone for more than 15 minutes at a time, it would be the wisest option.

"You can't keep babysitting for me," Hermione had said lightly, bumping the Chief's shoulder. She knew the playfulness would lighten Cass' mood.

It had worked and Cass had waved it off, telling Hermione to go and do what she had to do but just to sign both her and her patient in and out upon leaving and arriving. It was also made clear to Bellatrix that if she tried anything, they would find her and kill her. Bellatrix didn't seem phased.

The dark witch did well to hide it, but she was excited about leaving St. Mungo's even for just a few hours. She was shackled with an anti-magic spell and was kept away from civilisation as much as possible, though.

Hermione apparated them straight from the front entrance to St. Mungo's to her office, not letting Bellatrix know its location exactly. In a way, the idea of Bellatrix knowing where she lived scared her, but it also excited her.

When they both appeared, Hermione immediately went to turn her lamp on and the familiar warm lighting made her sigh with relief.

Bellatrix walked towards Hermione with one raised eyebrow. She fiddled with things on Hermione's desk as she spoke, picking each item up, examining it, then putting it back slightly differently to how it was before. "What's this trip really about? You don't have any work to do here and you've been acting strange these past few days. You've been writing letters, you've been doing all sorts of cryptic crap."

"I went to see your sister," Hermione admitted immediately, halting Bellatrix as she held a small figure of a cat that she'd found.

She slowly put it down exactly as it had been before. "You spoke to Cissy?"

The brunette nodded. "And she gave me this."

Bellatrix eyed the young witch suspiciously as she took out the memory from her pocket, like a predator stalking its prey. "What's that?"

"I don't know, she didn't tell me what the memory is exactly. Whether I'm allowed to watch it is up to you. I would be honoured if you let me and it would help me figure out your next treatment course, but it's entirely up to you," Hermione's voice was soft, which lulled Bellatrix into a sense of calm.

The dark witch nodded slowly. "How am I going to see it?"

Hermione gestured towards her pensieve and she handed the vial to Bellatrix, waving her wand at the large bowl so that it became accessible to the dark witch. She took a seat in the armchair in the corner and watched Bellatrix very carefully tip the memory into the pensieve.

The Slytherin looked back for a moment, as if she was unsure. She was, after all, extremely vulnerable while watching the memory, but she trusted Hermione. Slowly, she lowered her head into the bowl and found herself being swept away.

Hermione continued to watch curiously. She wanted to know what the memory was, she wanted to know what it was that Narcissa believed could either be the end or new beginning of her older sister, she wanted to know what Narcissa _meant_ by that. There were so many questions. Hermione found it all extremely overwhelming.

When Bellatrix resurfaced, she stumbled back fast and would have fell, but Hermione stood and caught her in time, holding her upright in her arms.

"Hey," she whispered soothingly, "hey, it's okay, I've got you. How are you feeling?"

Bellatrix stared at the pensieve with a shocked expression. She didn't speak.

"Bellatrix?"

"I… I did that," the older woman croaked out, eyebrows furrowing. Hermione was still holding her, one hand in the dip of her back and the other on her abdomen to stabilise her.

"What? What was the memory, Bellatrix?" Hermione pushed, but knew as soon as she said it that it had been a bad idea.

Bellatrix's eyes fell on hers and suddenly, the woman looked furious. The fury, however, wasn't directed at Hermione. Bellatrix was angry with herself.

"I DID THAT!" she shouted, pushing the Gryffindor away and letting out a loud hiss. "I did that…" she stepped towards the pensieve again, then stepped away and began to pace erratically. She chanted to herself as she paced. "I did that, I did that, I did that, I did that."

Hermione watched Bellatrix slowly begin to unravel and she would have been lying if she'd said she wasn't scared. "Bellatrix…?"

Bellatrix turned and snapped at her. "I DID THAT! I am a horrible person."

"What was the memory? Tell me?" Hermione asked soothingly, despite the fact that her hands were shaking.

Bellatrix snarled at Hermione, hunched over herself like an animal. "Why don't you go and see, Healer? It's nothing you didn't know already. Maybe it'll help you psychoanalyse me a little more. Maybe it'll help me be released from St. Mungo's. Maybe I'll be released, and I can have a house and a job if I tell your girlfriend about the Dark Lord and how he operated. Maybe I'll get all of those things but I will _never_ escape _that_!"

Hermione opened her mouth to speak but Bellatrix hissed. "Halfblood, muggleborn, mudblood, filthy blood. It's disgusting, it's foul. I bet your blood runs black with the amount of filth it carries. And so did hers! I shouldn't feel guilty about what I did, I did the right thing!"

"Bellatrix, what are you talking about?" Hermione tried to make sense of the abuse Bellatrix was hurling at her, but there was a piece of the puzzle she was missing.

Bellatrix stormed over to the brunette and grabbed her hair. Hermione cried out, clawing at the hand that was all but pulling her locks out by the root. Before she could say anything to object, she was being dragged across the room and her face was being pushed down into the pensieve.

_"Andromeda, darling, I'm sorry…" Narcissa placed an arm around her sister as she cried over Nymphadora's body after it had been delivered to her by some Aurors. _

_"My own sister," she sobbed, dropping to her knees next to her daughter, "killed the my daughter. Bellatrix has taken the last piece of me. I am hollow." _

_They were inside the front door of the house Hermione had visited and it was almost like she could smell the death, almost like she was actually there holding Tonks' cold dead hand. _

_"Bellatrix was driven mad by the Dark Lord, even more so than she was before she even knew him. Our father was sure that Bellatrix deserved to be disciplined to extraordinary measures, you know that better than I do. Don't hold this hatred in your heart, 'Dromeda, it will destroy you. It will turn you cold… you were always the kindest out of all of us. Find it in your heart to forgive so that you may move on."_

_"I don't see how I move on from this," Andromeda snivelled, wiping her eyes, "but I do not hold a grudge against Bellatrix. I forgave her before she'd even done it, before I even knew Dora was…" _

_There was a silence and Narcissa watched her sister curiously. "You're not angry?"_

_"I'm angry at the world for shaping my sister into the sort of person who would do this. She deserves more, she deserves to be happy. Cissa, I've never known Bellatrix to be truly happy. She's the most fragile person I know and yet she's still alive. Before you were born and when you were too young to remember, she would hold me when mother wouldn't and then be punished for telling mother how bad she was at caring for me. She practically raised me. She was only trying to give us what we deserved and father's cruel punishments made her cold. And then Voldemort got his disgusting hands on her, and Rodolphus… well she could take care of herself when it came to him, but that doesn't take away the fact that she shouldn't have had to go through any of that, especially at such a young age. Don't you think?"_

Hermione groped at Bellatrix's hand so that the woman might let her lift her head again and, when she did, she turned and met Bella's eyes, red from tears, cheeks stained with salty water.

"Bella…" Hermione took a step closer but Bellatrix took a step back.

The dark witch shook her head. "Excuses. She makes excuses for me because she believes that there is good in me; she's wrong."

Hermione kept still where she was, not wanting to spook the dark witch or send her into another craze. "It's okay. She forgave you, you see, people can forgive."

"People are stupid," Bellatrix sobbed and her voice broke as she said, "Look at what I did…"

Hermione watched as the once very scary Death Eater slowly sunk to the floor, where she knelt and cried. The brunette had never seen her like this — the closest being Bella's breakdown in the shower — and it terrified her. She had no idea where to tread next. It was all uncharted territory.

"No, they're not," Hermione crouched down next to her and tried to get a look at her face, but it was covered by a curtain of thick dark curls. "Andromeda is right. If you went through all that as a child, it'll have an extremely negative impact on your emotional growth, it's not healthy. You were lead astray, Bellatrix, there's no shame in that. But you've been given a chance to make things right, to be a better person. This is your chance to be happy and you deserve it. I see the good in you, too."

Slowly Bellatrix lifted her head and Hermione could see the tears still streaming silently from her puffy red eyes. She didn't speak, she just stared.

Hermione reached out and cautiously caressed Bella's cheek. "I see a lot of good, actually. I see the things you could be if you let me help you become them. I see a woman whose entire world has been ripped out from under her feet. I see that woman and I want to help her, but I can't unless she lets me."

Bellatrix's eyebrows furrowed and more tears spilled over her eyes. She shook her head. "Where do I start? I don't know where I start, Hermione, you've got to help me."

"And I will," Hermione whispered, almost as if their conversation might be overheard, but in reality, Hermione was terrified that whatever spell Narcissa's memory had cast would wash over the older witch and disappear.

"What do I do? Where do I go from here? I have nothing. I need you to tell me what I need to do."

"I can't do that, but if you let me in, I can hold your hand through the parts you need me to."

Bellatrix watched Hermione's expression, waiting for her to turn on her or to laugh in her face, but she didn't. She was completely serious. She did believe there was good in her, she did believe she was worth saving and that made Bella's heart skip a beat. It made her throat close over and more tears overflow. As if opening up the flood gates to her emotions, it all came gushing out.

Hermione noticed Bella's eyes fall on her lips for a split second. "What do you need?"

Bella's entire world was spinning and shifting. She needed comfort and she knew where she'd find it. Achingly slowly, she leaned in and brushed her lips against Hermione's.


End file.
